A little fall of rain
by Ritter Sport
Summary: A little fall of rain, can hardly hurt me now...and rain will make the flowers grow." Some things of the past can never be kept a secret. Especially now when the past came back to haunt you - years later. Perhaps this time around, it's okay to cry.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe. It belongs to Fox.

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She felt the crisp autumn breeze as it tickled her bare torso. Her blouse, torn open and covered in blood splatter (was it her own or the perp's? She wasn't sure), flittered in the harsh wind, revealing her nakedness and the glaring bruises that adorned her body.

Her head was throbbing and her back hurt as she shakily stood up and stumbled away from the corpse. She felt her head reel as scenes of what happened and did not happen went on instant replay in her mind.

Her stomach churned angrily.

She stumbled again and her legs began to buckle underneath her weight. In a flurry of dirty blond hair, she slumped against the hard brick wall of the deserted alley.

Panic began to rise and her pupils dilated.

"God," she whispered, head leaning against the wall.

She clutched her gun tightly. Her hand still tingled after firing a series of shots. The coldness of the metal pressed against her skin was slightly comforting.

Had she been without a gun, God only knew what might have happened to her.

Trying to calm her erratic breathing and her mile-a-minute heartbeat, her gaze directed towards the man who lay face down in his own pool of blood. Her stomach clenched and she suddenly choked on a sob.

_Shit._

It was getting colder and she suddenly felt the faint beginnings of possible rain. Looking up, green eyes stared at the cloudy, willing it to rain.

'_Clean me up.' _Her mind reeled.

Shivering, her legs finally gave way under her and she slid painfully down the wall. She winced. Everything hurt. Everything.

Green eyes slid painfully back to the body. She just wanted to go home right now. Slip under her comforters and will everything away. Like she used to. Perhaps this was just a bad dream.

Spotting her phone, that must have fallen out of her pocket during the scuffle, she painfully crawled towards it. Making a grab for it, she then slumped against the dumpster.

Fumbling with the phone, she quickly dialed a number and exhaled loudly.

"Hello, Boston PD, state your emergency,"

She breathed and green eyes stared at the corpse, and fear slowly started to rise. Images danced before her eyes and she choked. Closing her eyes, the images stopped and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"This is Olivia Dunham, I'd like to report a crime,"

"Agent Dunham?" repeated the officer on the line, recognition and confusion clearly in his voice.

"There has been a homicide and rape incident," she opened her eyes and looked at the sky. It was going to rain any minute, she thought.

"Agent Dunham? Homicide? Rape?" repeated the officer, again clearly confused. "The victim?"

There was silence for a second, as Olivia watched the dark sky. Closing her eyes, she finally felt something wet slide down her cheek. _Must be rain, _she mused.

"Me,"

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Author's note: This is my first take on Fringe fanfiction. I hope whatever I wrote as the first chapter got your interest. I'm exploring some areas here and there, and I'm interested in the character developments as the story will progress. Let's see where this one will go, shall we?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: **Thank you for your kind reviews. I'm kind of surprised how quick I was able to come up with a second chapter. Perhaps it was because I wanted to know your ideas about where I'm taking the story. I'm looking forward to getting things going, since these first few chapters will set the pace and the playing field of the story.

I'm looking forward to the character development and the challenge of keeping the characters in character as much as possible. That would be challenge that I'm definitely looking forward to.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Fringe. It legally belongs to Fox and its rightful owners.

* * *

"I'm sure Olivia's fine," whispered Junior Agent Astrid Farnsworth more to herself than to the other occupants in the station wagon. However, her dark eyes betrayed her as she stared out the windshield and carefully watched as they whizzed through Boston's afternoon traffic. Above head, the skies were darkly lit and cloudy. Clear signs of rain were in the horizon, fittingly enough, it seemed to match the depressing mood in the car.

His knuckles were turning white, as Peter Bishop firmly gripped the steering wheel and easily maneuvered the car through traffic, missing a Honda Civic by a fraction of an inch. His jaw tightened and briefly glanced at the young agent.

"Astrid, having Olivia in the same sentence with the words _homicide_, _attack_, and _delusional_ is not good,"

He just knew something was wrong.

Astrid watched him, eyes shining with worry. She held onto the dashboard as another sharp turned jarred her. Sliding her eyes back to the road, she realized they were closing in on the crime scene. In the pit of her stomach, she knew something was not right.

After all, why would Olivia call Boston PD and not the FBI?

"Son?" whispered Walter, looking at Peter through the rearview mirror. With eyes that for once seemed to look older than he really was, he tried to catch Peter's gaze. He was extremely worried.

"Water," acknowledged Peter, briefly looking into Walter's eyes in hopes of giving the old man some reassurance that things would be alright. He knew Walter cared a lot for Olivia, perhaps it was part of the guilt for having done all those experiments on her as a child. He sighed. Looking at his father – alternate- reality-father, _whatever_ – Peter was glad Walter was here.

"Olivia's a strong woman," said Walter.

That somehow seemed to help ease the tension in the car. Perhaps this was just nothing, a report misinterpreted and Olivia was just fine. However, the tension came back ten folds as they turned another corner and spotted Olivia's abandoned SUV close to an alley, surrounded by an ambulance, Boston PD and FBI cars. There was a rush of people, and they easily spotted a very tense Agent Broyles talking to the chief of police.

Peter felt his stomach drop. This somehow didn't look all too good in his book.

"Agent Farnsworth, Dr. Bishop, Mr. Bishop," acknowledged Broyles, his face tense.

"Where's Olivia?" asked Peter, cutting to the chase. Blue eyes slid away from the agent, and flittered across the crime scene trying to make sense of the whole situation. His eyes shifted to the alley where a group of officers where standing over a body, gathering evidence. Close by, two EMTs were kneeling next the wall.

Broyles frowned, looking into the alley. He ushered them to walk into the alley. "Agent Dunham was assaulted,"

Peter's throat tightened and he had a sudden feeling he knew who the EMTs were huddling over. With a frown and not waiting for further explanations from the agent, he hurried down the alley.

"Shit,"

What he saw made his stomach drop and he took a step back. _This wasn't right._ This couldn't be her. A gasp escaped his lips and a mixture of helplessness and worry engulfed him.

"Oh my god," he heard Astrid whisper, but he ignored her. Peter's eyes were trained on the beaten agent, breathing heavily, leaning heavily against the wall with a glazed look in her green eyes.

"Agent Dunham, you're suffering from a serious concussion," said the EMT, pulling his hand away from the blonde's head and turning off the penlight after examining her eyes.

"We'll take you to the hospital now," offered the other EMT, as she smiled kindly at Olivia. Reaching out, she adjusted the thermal blanket that they had draped over the agent, trying to shield her nakedness and protect her from the cold.

"We'd need to do a medical examination. She's pretty beaten up and has a serious concussion," supplied the first EMT, looking up at Broyles and the rest. "Medical tests will show the extent of the assault,"

"Olivia?" said Peter, blue eyes shining with worry. He was about to bend down, when her head moved and she looked up at him. Her eyes were hauntingly green, glazed, tired and red.

"Hi," she breathed, a look of recognition crossing her face. '_Peter,'_ Her mind was still reeling and her whole body hurt. She faintly wondered why it still hadn't begun to rain. Minutes earlier, she could have sworn she felt something wet on her cheek.

She barely heard the faint '_Hey_' from him, as she heard the distinct rumblings of rain. She smiled. It should rain soon. She barely listened as the EMTs crowded over her, trying to help her stand. Her head was swimming and her body hurt. She faintly wondered if she was even breathing – or alive.

Her gun, which she cradled close to her chest, dropped to the ground as she stood up. It made a loud clattering sound as it skidded across the ground, close to her feet.

Thunder rolled across the sky, signaling imminent rain. Her eyes, glazed, shifted skyward briefly, then slid to the body a few feet away from her.

Her stomach churned and breathing hitched. Bruised fingers curled into the arm of the female EMT that held her, and she swayed.

She needed her gun, she realized. Ignoring the gentle hand on her arm, she bent down, eyes clouded and unfocused. Ignoring the cry of protest, and how suddenly the ground seemed to have shifted underneath her feet, and blindly reached for her gun.

She _needed _her gun.

The first drops of rain fall hit her hand as it fumbled with the gun on the ground and that was all the she felt, as she keeled forward and into the arms of the EMTs. And as the rain slowly picked up, darkness surrounded her.

And at last, there was peace.

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**Author's notes: **reviews would be highly appreciated. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes: **Dear all, thank you so much for your kind reviews. They definitely make me want to continue writing! Thank you so much. I'm glad that you like the style of writing that I am using. I hope I can keep it all together as the story progresses.

Right now, I'm building on the story and I'm hoping to have things go further as the story progresses. I likewise hope the character development is going smoothly and characters are 'in character' as much as the story will permit. It's a nice challenge, trying to write Peter, Olivia and the other characters.

So, without much further wait, here's chapter 3!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Fringe. It legally belongs to Fox and its rightful owners.

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6:45

6:45

6:45

6:46

The steady blinking of the red digital clock in one of the waiting rooms of Mass. Gen. Hospital was driving Peter Bishop crazy. With frayed nerves, he watched as the red numbers blinked, seemingly mocking their close to an hour wait for them to see Olivia.

Olivia.

His throat tightened and his hands curled into tight fists. He didn't understand what happened. It just didn't make sense to him.

"Boston PD received a call from Agent Dunham this afternoon. They said that that she was assaulted, possibly sexually, and had killed the suspect," Agent Broyles briefed the team earlier as they made their way to the hospital. His demeanor looked tense as he relayed what happened to his agent.

'_Possibly sexually.'_

_It just didn't make sense. _His mind reeled. How could _that _have happened?

Peter's jaw clenched and his heart thumped. Guilt washed over his senses and he suddenly felt angry with himself. He should have been there for her.

Blue eyes slid over to the worried form of his father, who once again fumbled with the vending machines. Memories of Olivia in a coma lying on a gurney came to mind, and Peter felt slightly woozy.

This should not be happening. _At all._

With a pained expression, he looked down the hall, at the room where Olivia was being kept. The blinds were drawn and nurses and doctors moved in and out of the room. The Chief of Police was in deep conversation with Agent Broyles, both looked tense as they poured over some documents.

"It'll be fine, Peter," whispered Astrid, brown eyes still shining with worry. She offered him a tired smile, and touched his fisted hands. "Olivia's strong,"

Peter nodded, albeit numbly. Sighing loudly, he shifted in the uncomfortable plastic chairs and watched as a nurse entered Olivia's room. His brows creased and his insides churned.

It wasn't fair. This shouldn't happen to her.

* * *

_A shadow shifted. _

_The floor creaked._

_A touch on the forehead._

_The bed dipped._

"_Hey," _

_A clammy touch on the forearm._

"_No!"_

"NO!" Olivia screamed, green eyes snapping open, bolting up as her body suddenly ached in pain. The heart monitor beeped frantically, picking up her wild heartbeat. Breathing heavily, she let out another strangled cry and swatted away the hand of the male nurse as he attempted to draw blood from her arm while she slept.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, green eyes slightly unfocused. The heart monitor seemed to pick up in the background, and her breathing was ragged.

"Miss Dunham, calm down," the nurse offered a gentle smile, raising both of his hands not before having pressed the emergency button. "I'm just taking a blood sample,"

She watched him trying to calm her, and she suddenly felt her skin crawl. Her head was throbbing and she felt disoriented. Where was she? A hospital. What happened? That happened.

Oh…oh.

Realization dawned upon her, and green eyes just widened. She felt winded and a shiver crawled up her spine. Pressing herself against the headboard, she hoped she established as much distance as possible between herself and the nurse.

"Don't touch me," she repeated, practically wheezing the words and the heart monitor picked up again.

She shouldn't be in a hospital. She should be at home, with a bottle of scotch, whiskey, wine – whatever. She'd just sleep through this and go to work tomorrow. She'd sleep, with her gun on her bedside table.

Green eyes slid to her bedside – no gun.

Damn it, where was her gun?

"Let me go home!" Olivia demanded, making moves to crawl out of bed. Her movements were unsteady, every part of her body hurt and even trying to pull out the IV from her hand was an impossible task.

"Miss Dunham, don't. You'll hurt yourself!" the nurse stepped forward and touched her arm just as she was about to tumble out of the bed.

His hands were cold against her flushed skin and Olivia flinched under the touch. Her breathing hitched and she pushed herself away from the nurse, struggling. "Don't touch me," she repeated, now more of a whimper than anything else.

As the loud beeping of quick heartbeats filled the room, the door burst open, with a slew of people rushing in. There were a few cries, as they noted the struggle in bed. Female nurses rushed to the aid of the nurse, and they pulled Olivia back to bed.

Olivia whimpered, trying to get a grasp of the situation. She felt immensely disoriented all of the sudden. What did just happen again? One of the female nurses offered a smile and words of assurance. _'It'll be alright' _she heard. She barely saw another female nurse raise a syringe and adjust her IV drip.

She was guided back to bed and she vaguely saw the blurred figures of Peter and Walter. Their worried faces were going out of focus and everything suddenly became so pleasantly numb. And as she recalled what had happened, the numbness was a welcome change.

And before long, everything became black – just as outside, the rain started to pick up.

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**Author's notes: **reviews would be highly appreciated. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's notes:** Guys, thank you so much for your great reviews! For that, here's a new chapter. Apologies nonetheless for taking a while in updating, things have been hectic lately at my end. As I continue with this story, I hope you guys can keep the great feedback coming!

As of the moment, story build up is going on well. I think with this chapter, we've done well enough and reached a certain point. I'm kind of excited of the progress of the story. I hope, however, that I've kept the characters "in character." It's definitely a challenge, but a great learning experience.

Here's chapter 4, people!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Fringe. It legally belongs to Fox and its rightful owners.

* * *

While everything remained dark, she regained consciousness to the faint sounds of a heart monitor beeping in the background. She was aware that her whole body felt sore, and her head still maintained its painful throb.

Listening to the beeping of the heart monitor, a reminder that she was still alive, she willed herself to go back to sleep.

Memories of the incident were still fresh, painfully on instant replay in her mind. And the throb on her hips, the dull pain all over her body, and the numbing throb in her head were just painful reminders of everything that happened and didn't happen.

The monitor beeped in the background, as she willed it to lull her back to sleep. Perhaps, if she thought long enough, she'd just fall asleep.

Right now, as her head throbbed and her body ached, she didn't want to wake up.

Olivia didn't want to face reality.

_Her body hit the wall and she felt his body press along her own, roughly pushing her up against the wall. She struggled, kicked him, and he hit her back, her head hit the wall and she choked on a scream as cold hand touched the exposed flesh of her hip._

"_There, there, Olivia,"_

She felt her stomach twist as in the midst of the darkness, something bright flashed before her eyes. As memory after memory assaulted her senses, she felt her skin crawl and her heart monitor steadily began to pick up again.

A sob was building up in her throat, and as she struggled with her emotions she painfully woke up to the feeling of a hand on her cheek.

"Olivia,"

Peter watched, disturbed, as the blonde opened her wild green eyes and suddenly flinched under his touch. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he offered her a soothing look as she momentarily looked ready to panic again.

"Hey," he whispered, smiling softly. He held her cheek another second watching as a look of recognition crossed her face before withdrawing his hand, sliding it along her neck and letting it rest momentarily on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before withdrawing completely.

"Peter," Olivia whispered, her panic slowly subsiding, and she settled into sitting up in bed. She evened her breathing, looked at him momentarily, before looking around trying to make sense of her surroundings.

"It's morning already," supplied Peter while watching her wearily look around the room. "You've been out cold since last night, after you nearly punched the nurse," He offered her a small grin.

Olivia sighed softly, her eyes dropping to her hands in her lap. "Oh,"

Drawing himself closer to her bed, Peter stood up from his chair and sat down on the edge of her bed slowly. He watched her watching him, green eyes glazed and tired. Sighing, Peter touched her hands and suddenly felt his stomach twist. Swallowing a lump in his throat, his eyes softened and his hands tightened around her smaller ones.

Green eyes glazed over as she watched him draw closer and a lump formed in her throat. She watched him intently, staring at her with worry and despair, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Warm hands encased her surprisingly cold ones, and she felt her stomach knot painfully as his hands offered her a reassuring squeeze.

Peter was here, she assured herself. He was here, he'd help her.

All of the sudden, her eyes watered and she felt her desperation slowly bubbling over. _Somebody was finally there for her._

And she began to cry, long painful sobs racked her body as she felt him gather her into his arms and pull her up against him. Her arms went around his body and she fisted the fabric of his jacket in assurance that he wouldn't pull away. She cried softy into his embrace, her face buried into the crook of his neck, and her fist clenched in pain.

Maybe, just maybe, if she though hard enough about this, it'll all just end.

Peter chocked and he pulled Olivia closer to him, gently rocking her surprisingly small form and rubbing her back soothingly. He felt her grip around him tighten, almost desperately, and he instinctively held her closer, listening to her heart wrenching sobs and cradling her closer to him.

And as he listened, he felt his heart break.

"It's going to be alright, Liv. I'm here," he mumbled into her hair.

* * *

Olivia picked at her food listlessly, occasionally taking a bite before turning her attention back to the muted television of some morning soap opera Peter made her watch. She wasn't much interested in the food or the show. If she had her way, she'd be home by now asleep with a bottle of whiskey at her bedside table.

"You should eat something," said Peter looking at her softly.

Nodding, she made an effort to pick a bit of egg from her plate and took a bite. It tasted like sand to her. "I'm okay," she said finally, pushing the tray away from her and sitting up in bed. She watched him watching her.

Knowing that it was pointless to argue with her, Peter sighed softly and nodded. Standing up, he took the tray away and placed it beside her bed, for the nurse to pick up later.

There was a knock on the door a minute later, and the door opened, revealing Agent Broyles along with a female officer.

"Agent Dunham," Broyles eyed her, despite his stern demeanor his eyes softened at the sight of blonde agent. "I'm glad you are up,"

Olivia offered her boss an uneasy smile and she nodded. "Sir,"

The brunette female officer shifted next to Broyles, and smiled at both Olivia and Peter. She held a brown manila folder, and watched the FBI agent intently. "Agent Dunham, I'm officer Anne Davids, it's good that you are looking better," she said.

"Officer Davids is here to see Agent Dunham," supplied Broyles, looking slightly nerved at the whole situation. "Because of yesterday's incident,"

Olivia swallowed and her gaze at the two officers before her wavered.

Officer Davids offered the blonde a reassuring smile and lifted the folder for Olivia to see. "We finished our medical examination on you yesterday when you arrived at the hospital after you were," she paused for a second, choosing her words, "assaulted,"

A look of discomfort crossed her features and Olivia nodded numbly. She looked up and stared at Broyles, who was looking down at her intently. She had a feeling that he already had an inkling what had happened yesterday. She sighed loudly, suddenly feeling incredibly tired again.

"We'd just like to get a clearer picture of what happened yesterday. I'm sure you know the drill, Agent Dunham," Officer Davids smiled softly. "I know this is hard right now,"

Olivia offered her a rueful smile in return and she slowly nodded her head. "Okay,"

Stepping further into the room, Officer Davids spared a glance at Peter and Broyles. "Perhaps it is best that the gentlemen can wait outside as I get Agent Dunham's statement?"

Broyles nodded and slowly made a move out of the room. Peter on the other hand lingered, his worried gaze stayed on the hunched form of Olivia waiting for a sign from her that it was okay for him to leave her. She seemed to be taken in just watching her hands on her lap, before very slowly looking up at him, and with shining green eyes, and a sad smile, she nodded her head at him.

"I'll be right outside, 'Liv," he said to her, reaching out and touching her clasped hands. He squeezed them reassuringly, before shuffling out of the room.

Officer Davids watched the door close, before turning to the huddled form of Agent Dunham on the hospital bed. She smiled softly, her heart going out to the agent. She settled into the seat that Peter had previously occupied and pulled out a pad and pen.

"Shall we start, Agent Dunham?"

Taking in a shaky breath, Olivia looked up and stared at the officer, and nodded her head, ready to recount what happened yesterday.

* * *

"How is she?" asked Broyles, as both men waited nearby at the familiar waiting lounge which they occupied little less than 24 hours ago. He cradled a cup of substandard coffee and winced when he took a sip from the scalding brew.

Peter looked up, blue eyes tired and shining with worry. He looked at Olivia's room briefly, before turning to the older agent. He smiled sadly, and shook his head. "You know how she is," he said, sighing softly. "She's trying to hold it all in together,"

Broyles nodded, before taking another sip of his coffee. He faintly wondered if it was the coffee that left a bad taste in his mouth or if it was the information that he recently gathered regarding Olivia's incident.

"Do we know what happened yesterday?" asked Peter, looking intently at Broyles.

Putting down the coffee cup, deciding he had enough, Broyles turned to the younger Bishop. He stared at Peter for a long time, wondering how he would broach the topic to him.

"Agent Dunham was to report back to the office yesterday afternoon for a brief meeting," he began, sitting up straight and staring at Peter. He then set his jaw as he recalled what was gathered from CCTV cameras and eyewitnesses. "However, reports show that Agent Dunham received a call at around 4 in the afternoon and set her off course from the office. CCTV cameras of nearby establishments caught Dunham in the vicinity of where she was assaulted," he said.

Peter looked at him intently, his eyebrows furrowing. "So somebody called her? The suspect? Who?" He sat up, fist clenching.

Broyles swallowed slowly, and he finally settled with the fact that it was indeed all the new information he was able to gather that left a horrible taste in his mouth. Not the coffee. "We were able to ID the suspect,"

Peter watched him, a feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. He glanced towards Olivia's room, faintly wondering how she was doing in there without him, before turning back to Broyles. He had a feeling that this would turn out horrible.

"We identified the suspect as Michael Johnsons," said Broyles, looking fairly angry at the name.

Peter looked confused, trying to figure out why the name was of any importance or why it was familiar. Or why in the first place Olivia would receive a call from a Michael Johnsons. Noting Peter's confusion, Broyles supplied the mission information that made Peter's blood run cold.

"Agent Dunham's stepfather,"

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**Author's Notes: **Reviews and feedback will be greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading.


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